Ok, I know that won't mean much to anyone, perhaps not even the afrikaans speaking people, but I'm trying to learn [fonetiklee] a few oblique phrases from each country that one day may come in handy. You never know. This one means 'trust me, I'm a doctor'. [I'm hoping to use it on a pretty blonde one day].We have recovered from our half day in the air by pretty much lying around on the couch, going out for short drives to another of various wineries, and drinking a fair amount of the only liquid on earth officially sanctioned by the church... shiraz! Ok, and some shiraz cabernet, and some sauvignon blanc, and some vintage and tawny port. Hmm.
I know in one of my previous blogs I recounted my pact with the angels that went something along the lines of, 'if I make it off this ferry alive, I promise I'll be a good husband and father [and - through clenched teeth - never go on another ferry as long as I may live]. Well, something's come up. We are in South Africa, and we are staying near Cape Town, and I have read all those books about Nelson Mandela... they say the weather won't be too bad... What, compared to the Northern Atlantic?
Anyway, tossed aside like a new years resolution after the first weekend in January, we break our promise and join the cue [tomorrow] for the ferry to Robben Island. So much of the history of europe is measured in centuries, so to connect to something monumental that happened in my lifetime gives me a shiver. Nelson Mandela was held there for much of his 27 years captive years. I'll let you know later what effect it had on us.
I arrived in Africa with a few expectations. For one, I expected to feel connected to the land in some primeval way [I did hug a gum tree today, but that's another story]. I also expected to be carjacked, and attacked with machetes, and have my liver stolen my a deperate medical student raising funds by selling organs on the black market... Fortunately, I can report that, though the first expectation hasn't really materialised, the second hasn't either. Even with an open and enquiring [read: cynical] mind, I find I've been something of a victim of the western media and it's preoccupation with violence and oversensationalised reportage. There are obvious problems with a large portion of any population who are bound by poverty and no access to education and other state services, but as 2006/7 statistics from the Victorian Police show, it's largely a matter of marketing. 42,000 crimes against the person, including more than 10,000 for homicide/sexual assault/rape/and abduction. The other measley 30,000ish for personal assaults. Who would want to live there... I mean, who would want to live there anyway? Right? Am I right? Anyhow, it doesn't even cross your mind NOT to travel to Melbourne. What South Africa needs is an advertising agency. A really good one.
Anyhow, I can't divorce my mind from the preconceptions I hold, and so in my mind I'm evading every person of colour like they're an axe-murderer. It sounds so completely politcally incorrect, but that's the truth. Sorry to all those oppressed by my prejudice...
That was a bit of a disjointed ramble I know, so I'll get back to the other disjointed ramble. We went for a lovely drive round through the mountains and joined the coast at Hermanus. A really fantanstic little set of caves pounded into the lowish cliffs by the southern ocean has been reclaimed [don't know what they do at high tide?] by a Jamie Oliver type, and turned into a restaurant. We were just sitting there minding our own calamari when the sound of contented collective ruminating was interrupted by an ooh and aah. Whales. Right under our noses.
About 4 or 5 lolling about in the bay, and then intermittently breaching and creating havoc with the cleanliness of my shirtfront. I was still trying to eat my calamari... Even though I live so close to Victor Harbor [South Australia] I have never been and done 'the whale thing', and I must say, it had quite a profound effect on me. Seeing the whales that is, not going to Victor... Our lunch spanned a couple of hours, and the whales agreed to stay on for an extra set while we had our dessert. Mighty nice of them really.
The road back round the coast, through Strand was so reminiscent of the Coast Road to Melbourne [Editor's warning: see previous entry regarding this destination]. The weather was decidedly gloomy, and made one glad not to be in the Round World Solo Yacht Race... [Editor may have a note about this in future editions!] The only thing really different was that the bins had baboon proof lids. We're not in Kansas anymore Toto!
Connie [actual name Coenrad] and I took in a game of Rugby at the local ground. A game between the top teams of each state. 'We' won. Evidently. It is a strangely technical game, considering it looks like a melee with an optional ball. The other team had a band that sounded like it was sending battle strategies by drum to the rest of the tribe on the next hill.
We have loved being here in Stellenbosch. We have slept in, had fairly lazy breakfasts, and pottered around for a few days while the weather has hung around. The next few days promise a little more sun, so we will do Table Mountain, Robben Island and Cape Point...
Only 14 weeks to go...
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